Harry Potter and the Elemental Heirs
by butterflychaser
Summary: It's the trio's seventh year and strange things are bound to happen. Mysterious glades, bamboozling riddles, crazy adventures, really evil plots, and plenty of romance can be found here. HG with a side dish of RHr.
1. Homecoming

Harry Potter and the Elemental Heirs

"_Not all who wander are lost."_ JRR Tolkien

Ginny somehow managed to stifle a yawn as Hermione continued her seemingly endless lecture on the finer points of wizarding history. She had never quite understood how Hermione managed to find things such as the Goblin Rebellion even remotely interesting, yet there she sat, chatting animatedly and gesticulating wildly as if it were the most important topic ever to grace the presence of the earth.

Hermione had been at the Burrow for almost the entire summer. The truth was she couldn't bear being away from Ron for so long, though she claimed that her parents had decided to go on an anniversary cruise in the Bahamas, whatever that was supposed to mean. Fred and George were off in Diagon Alley finishing the preparations for the new shop they were building there, to add to the one in Hogsmeade. Percy was, of course, at the Ministry burying himself in work.

Ginny took the time to look around her room, comforting in its familiarity. It was decorated in soft and muted pinks, with cherry wood furniture. Small and cozy, it smelled faintly of jasmine and rosemary, and Ginny breathed in the scented air gratefully. She sighed and laid back on the bed, spreading her arms as if she were falling.

Hermione finally seemed to notice Ginny's scarcely concealed boredom. "Oh, I am sorry Ginny. I do tend to get a little worked up when it comes to these things, don't I?"

"Well, that's the understatement of the year…" Ginny muttered, rolling over on her side to look up at Hermione. Her fiery hair cascaded down her shoulders and fell into her face, and she pushed it away impatiently. "Let's just find something else to talk about before I fall asleep ok?" A sly grin crossed her face suddenly, and a devious light shone in her eyes. "Sooooo…how is my brother doing these days? You haven't happened to have seen him around lately? You know you two are usually so preoccupied doing homework, writing letters to Harry, talking about the weather, or just doing your every day, run of the mill _snogging_ in secluded areas. It's really a wonder you have time to talk to little old me."

"Wha-I-how?" Hermione spluttered, her immaculate vocabulary failing her. She picked up a fuzzy pink pillow and hurled it at Ginny, who merely laughed. "How on earth did you find out about that?"

"Oh, as if it weren't completely obvious. You two walk around making eyes at each other all day long, randomly sighing and being all around lovesick puppies. You are about as obvious as, oh say, a stampeding hippogriff herd raging through the Burrow. That and the fact that I walked in on you two the other day in Ron's room." She grinned brightly at Hermione, who's mouth was slightly open and was rapidly turning crimson.

She finally laughed, still slightly pink, and made a face at Ginny. "Oh all right. You win. We were going to announce it tonight at dinner anyways. We are officially a couple," she said proudly.

"Well all I have to say is it's about time! I'm so happy for you!" Ginny said, a genuine smile gracing her features as she threw her arms around the older girl.

Hermione suddenly noticed how much Ginny had changed over the past year. It was now her 6th year at Hogwarts and all traces of her 1st year self were long gone. She had an inner confidence that shone brightly from her soft brown eyes and rarely belied the scrawny 11 year old who had been controlled by Tom Riddle. Her sunset-colored hair was now down to her waist and shone brightly in the soft morning light. But it was her calm and mature demeanor that was the most defining thing about her. Of course underneath the exterior, Hermione knew there lay a passionate and fiery core, invoking fear in even Fred and George when she was angry. But she seemed so incredibly beyond her years, and Hermione suspected this was because of Tom. So many things about Ginny were. Sometimes, in an unguarded moment, Hermione would see the lost and empty look, full of so much pain, and knew that she was thinking of him. But it always flickered away quickly, replaced by her usual bright spirit.

Hermione shook these thoughts away and smiled back. "Now, speaking of relationships, about Harry.."

But Ginny suddenly paled and a shadow passed over her features. "No, Hermione. I can't think about him. Just don't." She became very interested in her hands and Hermione sighed.

She didn't know exactly what had transpired last year between Harry and Ginny last year. She knew they had become much closer as Ron and Hermione had started spending more time together. Harry had leaned on Ginny after Sirius' death, and for some odd reason she had been the only one he could really talk to about it. He had become a bundle of contradictions after that summer, withdrawn and haunted one moment, and falsely cheerful the next. She knew he had tried to cover up his feelings for their sakes, but Harry simply could never truly conceal his emotions.

But Hermione did not want to think about that year either. It gave her a strange sense of foreboding in its complete lack of significant activity on the part of Voldemort. It was as if he had simply vanished and they weren't on the verge of the Second War. The Order had been on its toes all year long, but soon realized that either Voldemort was building up his forces and plotting something truly horrible, or he had decided that being evil involved far too much work and entered the business of rescuing kittens and puppies and visiting old folk homes. The latter seemed to be very wishful thinking.

She did know that one day Harry and Ginny had simply stopped talking altogether, Ginny wearing a pained and hurt expression, on the verge of tears, and Harry…. Harry had frightened her that day. So cold and removed and…resolute. That fiery determination had burned in his eyes and Hermione had wondered why. What did he hope to accomplish by fighting with Ginny. She had a worried feeling that she already knew, but could do nothing about it. Always the hero, that was Harry, but she wondered if it was worth it. Could he afford to lose Ginny?

Her thoughts were interrupted by an insistent tapping at Ginny's window. As she leapt up and opened the window, a snowy bundle of feathers fluttered in and settled on a chair. "It's Hedwig!" she exclaimed, surprised. Harry had rarely written so far over the summer. She suspected memories of Sirius were flooding over him, as they tended to do when he had too much time alone. That was why Mrs. Weasley was so eager to get Dumbledore to allow Harry to come to the Burrow, but so far he had not relented. Hermione happily snatched the letter and gave Hedwig a treat, ripping open the envelope. Her eyes greedily scanned the page and then she gasped in excitement.

"Oh! Harry's coming today! He'll be here this afternoon!"

She stopped as she turned and saw the look on Ginny's face. Several expressions flitted across her features in rapid succession: shock, fear, realization, and finally anger.

"Well isn't that just bloody front page news," she said sharply, leaping up from the bed. She knew she shouldn't be angry, that she should be happy for Hermione and Ron, and even Harry. He was finally escaping the Dursleys and coming back to his real family. But she just couldn't seem to muster the cheerful emotions that radiated from Hermione at that moment. The anger simply boiled in her blood, frothing angrily and threatening to burst out in a furious tirade. But she couldn't unleash it on Hermione. She refused to be so cruel.

"I'm sorry Hermione," she whispered faintly. The color drained from her face and she plopped back onto the bed resignedly. "I can't take this out on you. I'm only angry at Harry. I think I just need a walk."

"It's alright," Hermione said calmly. "I understand."

Ginny smiled gratefully at her before leaving the room and walking down the stairs. They creaked with age and use. How many Weasley feet had tromped up and down these stairs, leaving behind a footprint and a memory?

_Fred and George, scrambling to escape their latest product gone awry, explosions resounding behind them, their mother's screeches filling the air. Percy, sauntering importantly off to write some letter of great importance, dignified. Ron, dashing lankily and good-naturedly downstairs at the smell of his mother's cooking. Bill and Charlie racing each other in happy sibling rivalry, pounding into the floorboards and leaping into the air, fists pumping. _

As the memories overtook her, Ginny felt her anger melt away. She sighed and wondered at her questionable family, laughing to herself. She knew she would feel better after a good walk. If anything could prepare her for facing Harry, it was a stroll around the Burrow, the sights, sounds, and smells seeping into her, clearing her head and giving her a wonderful sense of clarity. She always could think best on a walk. She turned the doorknob and almost stepped through, but something made her gasp and stop. There, standing in her doorway, all lopsided grin and untidy hair and brilliant green eyes, was Harry Potter.


	2. Avoiding the Inevitable

**Chapter 2: Avoiding the Inevitable**

"_There is nothing like returning to a place which remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered."_ Nelson Mandela

Ginny's eyes widened as she saw him standing on her front porch, his grin fading. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it and shut it quickly. His eyes flashed briefly with a strange emotion, what was it? But then it was gone before it was really even there, replaced by a look of vague recognition. "Oh hello Ginny," he said, in a brotherly tone.

"Hello Harry," she said softly, brushing past him. She looked down, averting her eyes so that he wouldn't see the tears welling up and threatening to spill over. She was stubborn and would never let him see how very much she simply wanted to shake him and get through to him, breaking past his cold exterior. How could he act as if she were merely Ron's sister and someone he barely knew, after all they had been through?

Harry stood on the porch, watching her walk away. This was going to be a lot harder than he had expected. He hunched his shoulders forward as he picked up his suitcase and Firebolt, seemingly carrying the weight of the world on his back. Perhaps he did; after all, that was the way of heroes, and he had learned to accept it.

"I'm here!" he announced loudly, stepping inside of the house. He looked around as he waited for someone to come, taking in the warm and inviting clutter that was the Burrow. He felt his spirits rising as he glanced around.

He didn't have to wait long. Soon he was being thumped on the back by Ron, enveloped in bone-crushing hugs from both Mrs. Weasley and Hermione, and he found his hand being heartily shaken by a very enthusiastic Mr. Weasley. He clutched his now throbbing hand, grinning back at all the smiling faces. He always felt a sense of belonging here and welcomed it back gladly.

"Um Harry, why exactly are you holding a banana peel?" Ron asked, a bewildered expression on his face.

Harry laughed and held it up. "It was my portkey," he replied, tossing it towards the trash bin nearby, where it bounced off the side and landed on the floor with a soft squishing sound. "I don't normally rely on bananas as traveling companions, contrary to popular belief," he added with a slight smirk.

"Oh Ronald, honestly," Hermione muttered, though she was looking at him with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. She turned back to Harry and asked, "But why didn't you just Apparate? It must have been a great deal more trouble to get an authorized Portkey. You did pass the test didn't you?"

Harry grinned proudly. "Yeah, I passed the test, but you can't Apparate around here anymore. Lupin told me that Dumbledore recently activated a bunch of wards, including Anti-Apparition ones." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, but Hermione could tell that deep inside the subject of Dumbledore still triggered some resentment.

"It's really too bad you couldn't get here earlier. We were planning on throwing you a birthday party along with Ginny," Ron lamented.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said cheerfully. "I was happy enough simply getting some gifts besides that used bar of soap the Dursleys gave me. It was covered in Uncle Vernon's back hair," he said, shuddering.

Ron grimaced sympathetically. "It's right good that you're finally rid of those muggles. Mum almost popped a blood vessel when she heard about that huge tub of lard taking a swing at you."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes darkened dangerously at the mention of the Dursleys, but she said nothing.

"All right then," Mr. Weasley stated, "Ron, take Harry up and let him put his things away. Hermione, have you seen Ginny?"

Harry stumbled slightly at the mention of this and turned a bright shade of red. "I think she decided to take a walk," he mumbled, before dashing up the stairs after Ron.

"What was that all about?" Mrs. Weasley wondered, sighing and heading into the kitchen to start dinner. Whatever it was, she certainly intended to find out.

Ginny ambled along the dirt pathway leading down into a meadow from the Burrow, kicking rocks and wondering over the mystery that was Harry Potter. It really was a beautiful day, and she fully intended to enjoy it, despite the fact that the boy she had loved for so long and who had sent all her hopes of even having a friendship with him tumbling down, was staying at her house for the remainder of the summer.

The sun shone brightly above in the afternoon sky, which was the color of ocean shallows. Marshmallow clouds rolled lazily across the sky in creamy puffs, forming enough shapes to satisfy any dreamer. Ginny lay back on the soft grass that cushioned her, surrounded by wildflowers. Her yellow sundress flowed around her and rustled in the breeze. She looked up and concentrated on finding as many shapes as she could. A dragon streamed by, clouds of white steam coming from its snout. There, a snowman, ironic in its sudden summer appearance. And up higher was…Hermione?

Ginny blinked and realized that Hermione was actually standing above her and looking down in a concerned manner. Sitting up, she patted the place beside her, drawing her knees up thoughtfully. "Sit," she said, and Hermione obliged, crossing her legs and looking prepared for a lecture.

"Please, don't start," Ginny began. "I really am fine. Honestly. I just needed some time to think."

"Sorry Ginny, but I really am worried about you. Harry too. It's not exactly normal to just stop talking altogether for no reason," she said in a placating tone.

"Who says there wasn't a reason," Ginny replied, her words growing heated. "Maybe Harry just couldn't stand pretending any longer and decided to give up the charade. Why else would he simply refuse to even give me a proper answer as to why we couldn't be friends all of the sudden?"

"To protect you, of course," Hermione said, sounding weary and impatient. "You know he would never intentionally hurt you. He has something of a…"

"Nobility complex," Ginny put in. "Heroic syndrome. Saint of the world disease? Really, any would do just fine to describe him."

"Well, if you want to put it that way I suppose you're right. But he really can't help it you know. Growing up alone for all those years, he's so independent that he forgets to let anyone else in sometimes. He tends to think he can do everything by himself. You simply have to push your way back in. Let him know you won't be placed aside. Trust me, he's pushed both Ron and me away before."

Ginny sighed. "It's just not that simple, Hermione. Harry and I, we're very…complicated. I have a feeling he is pretty adamant about not letting me in."

Hermione had a foreboding feeling that Ginny was right.

Up in Ron's room, Harry was unpacking and barely listening as his friend continued to ramble on about his favorite team, the Chudley Cannons. Even his room reflected his love of this Quidditch club, decorated in a bright, blinding orange. There were posters everywhere, depicting chasers flying madly as bludgers barely whizzed past them, keepers making spectacular saves, and seekers spiraling into breathtaking catches. No, it was quite impossible to miss his obvious love of the sport.

Ron had been thrilled to become Quidditch captain the previous year, and was actually quite brilliant at it. Harry admired his skillful plays and endless strategies and was glad he himself had not been chosen. He wasn't really much of a speech giver. Ron, on the other hand, gave pre-match pep talks rivaling those of Oliver Wood, making it extremely difficult sometimes to stay conscious.

He had also become surprisingly dependable in his school work, pulling above decent grades and rarely procrastinating until the last minute, as had been his style for so many years. Harry suspected this had quite a lot to do with Hermione and the term "whipped" came to mind. The two of them now anxiously awaited their Hogwarts letters, which would reveal the identities of this year's Head Boy and Girl.

"As I was saying Harry, I've recently decided to leave Hermione and elope with Snape," Ron said loudly, rolling his eyes.

"That's nice Ron," Harry replied, eyes still far off.

"Harry, mate, talk to me here. You've slipped into another dimension. Where do you go all the time? Is this about Ginny?"

"Look Ron," Harry growled, snapping back to attention so fast that Ron was surprised he didn't get whiplash. "Not bloody everything is about Ginny, alright? Just leave it."

"Ok, ok, I know when to let well enough alone. I just don't understand you two. Up for a game of chess?"

Harry grinned at this and hopped up from Ron's bed. "Always."


	3. Confrontation

**Chapter 3: Confrontation **

_I don't know your thoughts these days  
We're strangers in an empty space  
I don't understand your heart  
It's easier to be apart_

Keane

The days flew by as summer melted away and September first drew ever closer. Ginny avoided Harry as best she could and when they did stumble across each other, they behaved as if they were distant cousins: polite, formal, detached.

Their conversations usually consisted of phrases such as "Oh, hello," "Nice weather we've been having," and "I think I hear someone calling me," and never lasted for over a minute.

Ginny often felt that Harry's indifference cut with a much sharper blade than when he had never really noticed her at all. Frustration and rage were slowly building up inside her, and she knew it wouldn't be long until something had to give.

And give it did.

One warm evening, Ginny was out in the garden, carelessly skipping rocks on the pond surface and enjoying the sight of frogs leaping every which way trying to avoid them. Sticky sweet heat pressed down like an iron fist, and she pulled her hair back to stop the fiery tendrils from clinging to her face.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw something glinting in the moonlight. _Glasses._ Harry walked out of the house looking very tired and preoccupied, as if he could hardly bear the thought of facing another day. He strode off toward the gravel path that wound down through the meadow and into the forest. She had seen him going down this path before, but had never thought to follow him, assuming he wanted to be alone.

But something stirred in Ginny this time and she had an urge to go after him. Silently, she followed, hoping to catch a glimpse of what he found so interesting that he wandered out here every night. Staying in the shadows, she took the opportunity to watch him. Harry was in his element now, alone and determined, gliding down the path with panther-like grace. Almost like a lion stalking its prey. On his own, Harry was so sure and determined, and Ginny was irresistibly reminded of the Chamber; Harry, standing next to the diary covered in ink and blood, Gryffindor sword in hand. Confidence and power had seemed to surround him, and it was like that now. He was so different when he was alone, another person entirely.

He ventured off the path and Ginny gasped. He was heading straight for her glade. The small area surrounded by a copse of trees had been her refuge for as long as she could remember. How on earth had Harry found out about it? It was so well hidden that Ginny always had one hundred percent confidence that even Fred and George could never stumble across her there.

She saw him pass through the hanging vines, which strung their way between two tree tops, almost brushing the ground. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself and followed through.

" 'Lo, Ginny," Harry murmured as she entered. He was leaning up against the particularly odd shaped tree in the center of the clearing. It looked as if it had been struck by lightning numerous times, and now had four twisting trunks that pointed in different directions. Mother Nature's hand had weathered it and warped it into abstraction. There were faint scratch marks in the bark that had probably been made by an eager squirrel.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she responded casually, as if she hadn't just followed him all the way down here. "How did you find this place? You know this has been my hideout since I was about seven? No one has ever found it before."

"Really," he said, as though this came as no surprise at all. He suddenly felt his wall of resistance toward Ginny crumble a little. The cracks had been forming ever since he had seen her on the front porch, and now he couldn't keep himself from letting the words tumble from his mouth. "Well, I know this will sound weird, but I just felt it calling to me. It just gives me peace of mind, being here, that's all. So now I come every day. Your house can get pretty insane, you know?"

"Tell me about it," she said, a smile playing about her lips. "But honestly, isn't it a bit strange that we both are the only ones to find this place, after who knows how many generations of Weasleys have lived here? I'm positive that no one else in my family has ever even noticed it."

"I suppose so," Harry said, though he didn't look concerned at all. "Not like it means anything though…"

"I guess you're right. Just a coincidence, of course," she muttered, half to herself, as if she didn't quite believe it.

Ginny turned to leave, but Harry's voice, tinged with annoyance, stopped her in her tracks. "Why did you follow me Ginny?

"What…"

"I knew you were following me. I'm not hoping to be an Auror for nothing." He stood stiffly, clenching his fists.

"Well, I really was under the impression that Aurors had to be somewhat brave, so I don't see how you possibly hope to be one," she responded coldly, crossing her arms and taking a step nearer to the tree. She was sick and tired of his brooding attitude and wasn't about to stand back and let him try to shoulder all his burdens alone.

It took a moment for the impact of this statement to hit him. When it did, Harry leaped up, bright spots of rage on his cheekbones, eyes flashing. "You're going to tell me that I'm not _brave_?" he demanded incredulously. He looked as though he wanted to say a lot more but he closed his mouth firmly. He collected himself and shoved his hands in his pockets. Once again he merely looked weary. "You know that I could never live with being a coward," he said evenly, looking directly at her.

"I know, Harry," Ginny said softly. "But I'm talking about a different sort of bravery. What you're doing right now, it's not brave or self-sacrificing. It's _selfish_."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about. What exactly am I doing?" he said firmly, looking ready for a fight.

"You know precisely what I'm talking about Harry James Potter," Ginny threw back, her voice growing angry. "Do you think I'm still a naïve little girl? You think you can protect me from Voldemort by pushing me away? Well let me tell you something: It's my fight too."

"Bloody hell, Ginny!" Harry yelled. "What are you on about? _Your_ fight? I've been marked down since birth as the one to defeat Voldemort!" Harry laughed sardonically as Ginny's eyes widened. "That's right! I know what the prophecy was. Dumbledore told me. He's known all along! Either I kill him or he kills me, that's how it's going to be in the end!" He rapidly repeated the prophecy to her, briefly realizing that she was the only person he had told besides Ron and Hermione. The words flew out of his mouth in anger and pain, burning as they were released.

_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. _The words rang in Harry's ears, as they had every day since he had heard the prophecy.   
If Harry had expected Ginny to be sympathetic or to start apologizing, he was sadly mistaken. "Honestly, I don't give a damn about that prophecy, Harry! I already knew you were going to be the one to face him in the end, and this doesn't change anything! At one point, I knew Tom better than I knew myself! I know he won't let it go, and he will always want revenge." Her face was now bright pink with fury and her eyes flashed dangerously. If looks could kill, Harry knew he would long since be dead. "Voldemort left a mark on me too, even if you can't see it! He stole a part of me, an element of my innocence and childhood, and I will _never_ forgive him that!"

Harry suddenly noticed how close together they were standing, and briefly wondered how that had happened. Ginny was trembling with rage and opened her mouth to start yelling at him again but never had the chance as Harry had covered her mouth with his. Ginny melted into the kiss for a moment before roughly pushing him away. "Oh so now you can just kiss me and make it all go away!" she demanded, breathing heavily. "It's not that black and white Harry! Maybe it is for you, but I don't easily forgive people who have spent the last several months pretending I hardly exist."

Harry simply looked overwhelmed and confused, as though he wasn't sure what had just happened. He had always been the type of person to follow his instincts and that was exactly what he had just done. _Why do I have to be so impulsive?_ he mentally berated himself, before looking up to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry Gin. I just wasn't thinking…"

She silenced him with a finger. "I know Harry. Just promise me one thing," she said, poking him hard in the ribs. "Never shut me out again. No matter what. And respect me enough to let me make my own decisions. I meant what I said before. This is my fight too."

"Fine," Harry answered with a sigh, though he had no intention of ever letting her get anywhere near Voldemort. "I have to leave now." With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the glade, leaving Ginny to watch him go, her heart still going a mile a minute and her hands still shaking.

One gloomy day, when rain clouds sagged heavily in the ash gray skies and threatened to unleash a torrent of rain at any second, a large lump of tawny feathers collided with the Burrow's kitchen window.

"Looks like someone's been using Windex," Harry said, snickering. Hermione joined in, while the entire Weasley family looked thoroughly baffled. "Never mind," he said, "Muggle cleaning products…"

Mr. Weasley looked fascinated and opened his mouth, no doubt to begin asking numerous questions about these cleaning products, but was cut off by Hermione's excited squeal. "Our Hogwarts letters! They're finally here!"

Ginny groaned. She would be getting back her O.W.L. results and was quite certain she had done miserably.

Her mother sat at the end of the table, urging Ginny to open her letter. "Go on, dear. I'm sure you did just fine." Her tone was comforting, but Ginny knew her mother would be furious if she had done poorly.

She hastily ripped open the seal, anxious to get it over with and grabbed the paper containing her results. Her mouth formed a small "o" of surprise as she read the total. "Twelve," she gasped. "How in Merlin's name did I pull that off?"

Mrs. Weasley bustled over and threw her arms around her petite daughter. "Mum…can't…breathe," Ginny choked, and finally writhed out of her grasp, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, Ginny! I am so proud of you! I knew you could do it."

Ginny snuck a glance at Harry, but he simply looked down at his hands and mumbled a congratulations.

Hermione sat in her chair, frozen and staring at her unopened letter. Her hands trembled and finally she sighed and placed the letter back on the table. "I can't do it," she stated. "I just can't."

Ron laughed and snatched the letter up quickly. "I'll open it, Hermione. Never fear," he said in a valiant tone, as if he were volunteering to rescue her from a particularly menacing dragon.

He opened the envelope and drew out the contents, placing aside the supplies list and looking down at the other small bit of parchment it contained. "Head Girl…" he began reading out loud, "Hermione Granger!"

Hermione sat for a moment, mouth open in shock, before leaping up and pulling Ron into a tight hug. "I did it! I never really expected to get it! Oh dear!" She kissed Ron on the cheek and began receiving hugs from everyone. Ron's ears turned bright red and he mumbled some incoherent words. Her cheeks flushed with pleasure as the Weasleys all took turns congratulating her.

"Well done, Hermione."

"Brilliant!"

"You'll never be able to get into trouble now. And neither will we for that matter…"Harry said, grinning merrily as Hermione shot him a look that clearly said 'don't-even-think-about-it.' "So who's Head Boy?"

"Oh…right." Ron picked up the slip again. His face suddenly went from pink to a pasty white. He gulped. "Head Boy…Draco Malfoy."


End file.
